Pigtails
by Persnickety
Summary: “I am completely horrified right now,” Draco responded blandly. “And strangely intrigued...” The ever popular scenario: Veritaserum in the Potions Lab. Slash themes. Humour.
1. Default Chapter

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.  
  
Inspired by a challenge.  
  
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PIGTAILS  
  
When Snape swung his office door open and bashed Harry Potter right in the face, Draco had thought it was funny.  
  
When Harry's glasses had shattered and his nose began to bleed a little bit, Draco had thought it was hilarious.  
  
When Harry's lip had trembled ever so slightly before he loped down the corridor toward the hospital wing, Draco had been forced to use Blaise Zabini as some kind of human crutch to keep from collapsing in his incredible fit of hysterics.  
  
But when Potter had turned up for potions later that afternoon, a tissue twisted and jammed up one of his nostrils, Draco had been greatly miffed.  
  
"Why are you here?" he hissed at the pathetic wretch as he flumped down in the seat beside him.  
  
"I'm nod missing the pragtise fidal," Harry had mumbled, the tissue in his nose flapping a little bit from side to side as he breathed.  
  
"But we've been made partners, you idiot," Draco explained calmly. "That means we have to work together. That is a bad thing, Potter. I may be forced to scald you or pour some kind of staining substance on your face. It won't be my choice, it's just the way things work. You do understand that, don't you?"  
  
Harry sniffed carefully and then slowly pulled the tissue from his nose. "I think it's stopped bleeding now."  
  
"That is absolutely repulsive," Draco told him. "Here, chop the shrivelfig."  
  
Harry reached up and ran a finger along the dark flesh that was quickly blackening beneath each of his eyes. "I think I have a bit of a concussion. My stomach is doing some really mad things."  
  
"Do not vomit anywhere near me," Draco instructed, shoving his stool a few inches away from the crazy boy. "I hate you. Go away."  
  
Harry reached over and grabbed the knife and the fig before studying them carefully. "What are we doing again?"  
  
"Chopping, you lunatic. I've changed my mind; give me the knife back before something bad happens. To me."  
  
Harry smiled for some reason, the candlelight glinting off the jagged edges of the broken lenses of his glasses. "I know that. What are we making?"  
  
"Veritaserum," Draco reminded the brainless oaf. "Like Professor Snape has been telling us all term. Have you been stoned this whole time?"  
  
Harry smiled, for no apparent reason, yet again. "I bet you'd like to get me stoned."  
  
Draco blinked. "I don't follow you, Potter. I think you've sustained some major head injury or something. Your brain may be swelling right this very minute. You should most definitely go and lay down somewhere that's out of the way and well ventilated. We don't want you stinking up the castle after you die of your massive head trauma."  
  
Harry abruptly began to laugh, rather heartily, and then commenced chopping the shrivelfig into minuscule chunks. "Well, let's get this potion sorted out and then we'll see what you really mean by all of this."  
  
Draco reached over and yanked on a knot in Harry's hair. "What do you mean, 'What I really mean'? What the hell is going on in there?" He knocked on the injured skull beneath that rat's nest and then pulled the knife from Harry's shaky hand. "Concussed people aren't allowed to chop things – basic rule of potion-making number one."  
  
"Well, it's done anyw-OW!" Harry was cut off as a rather large hunk of shrivelfig ricocheted off the back of his head and sent him careening forward off of his stool and down onto his knees.  
  
Draco turned around and burst into another fit of hysterical laughter.  
  
"Blaise!" Hermione screeched from the back of the room. "He – is – injured!"  
  
Blaise shrugged, still facing the front of the room and his chuckling friend. "I don't like him," he replied casually, and then began stirring his potion as if there had been no interruption at all.  
  
"Time," Snape called through the sudden din of Slytherin sniggers and angered Gryffindor muttering.  
  
Harry crawled, red faced and fuming, up from the ground and plopped down on his stool again.  
  
"I need a volunteer pair, thank you Malfoy and Potter, you may come up to the front, please bring your vials, yes I am quite serious," the professor said in one long breath. "I can only assume that yours will be the most well done. Potter has hardly been here long enough to foul things up," he added loudly.  
  
Harry limped a little as he moved to the front of the class. He was milking this pseudo-injury thing for all it was worth, and it was irritating the living hell out of Draco.  
  
Hermione contorted her face into a rather maternal expression of concern, as Ron turned red and grunted unhappily. A second shrivelfig was launched at Harry's head and the sound of enthusiastic high-fives cracked through the classroom as Blaise celebrated his impeccable aim.  
  
Snape made a point not to notice. "Right. Drink up."  
  
Harry looked askance at the professor and then stared down at his vial. "Both of us?"  
  
"Yes," he said slowly. "That would be why each of you were instructed to bring up a vial of your own. It is really quite basic logic. Now, drink up."  
  
Draco was quite pleased to learn that Veritaserum tasted rather similar to chocolate milk, and he happily let three drops fall onto his tongue from his finger. Harry murmured something about lactose intolerance and gently set the vial down on the table next to him as if it may have exploded on contact once he had swallowed three drops of his own.  
  
"So," Snape said, leaning back against the chalkboard and rubbing his hands together. "As I am sure you are all aware, Veritaserum causes even the best of liars to become temporarily unable to tell anything but the truth, and, as such, is regulated heavily by the Ministry. For example: Malfoy, how demonstrative would you say that your father is toward your mother?"  
  
"Not very," he replied immediately, startling himself in an oddly pleasant sort of way.  
  
Snape nodded approvingly. "And would you say that your father is more interested in, say, the tall, dark type?"  
  
"Yes. Just like I am." It was like his mouth had completely detached from the rest of his body and was functioning solely on its own.  
  
"I knew you fancied me!" Harry blurted out and then slapped his hand over his mouth.  
  
"Care to elaborate?" Snape asked, raising an eyebrow and pulling up a chair.  
  
Harry shook his head. "Yes."  
  
"Go on," Draco urged, sneering intensely.  
  
Harry grimaced as if he was holding in a sneeze. "It's completely obvious that your father has a thing for this asshole over here," he explained, motioning to Snape and looking absolutely horrified at himself. "And it's even more obvious that you're completely head-over-heels for me."  
  
"How so?" Snape enquired, jotting something down at an astounding speed.  
  
"It's like the little bully on the playground pulling his crushes' pigtails all the time with him, you know? Only it's not my pigtail he wants to pull, and – ohmygodpleaseletmestop!"  
  
"Yes, that is all well and good," Snape told him, tapping the end of his quill on the table, "but let's get back to Malfoy senior, shall we?"  
  
"I'd kind of like to hear more of Potter's little theories about me," Draco said, and meant every word of it. "Why do I want to... pull anything of yours?"  
  
"Well you make it perfectly clear that I'm always on your mind – I don't mean any of this, I swear, there's something horribly wrong with our potion, there is no other explanation – you can't stop thinking about me. You go out of your way to pick me out of a crowd and then insult me to get my attention."  
  
"I insult you because it makes you walk away," Draco informed him. "And when you walk away I can watch your ass – what? That's not even in there!"  
  
Snape smiled. "Of course it is. You Malfoy men and your black-haired boys..." He leaned back in his chair, looking wistful and far away.  
  
Harry made a sound something like a 'meep' and then bolted toward the door.  
  
"ACCIO POTTER!" Snape shouted, and the would-be escapee was torn from the ground as he flew back toward the professor's outstretched wand.  
  
"Careful!" Hermione called from the silent crowd of students. "He's injured!"  
  
"Yes, we're all terribly concerned for his well being," Draco announced without a hint of sarcasm.  
  
"Malfoy," Snape began. "What would you say your father most enjoys, the chase or the capture?"  
  
"The chase," he replied, disgusted that he even knew that, and even more so that Snape was writing his answer down.  
  
"And would your parents consider their relationship to be, oh, open?"  
  
"Yeah," he answered and blushed uncontrollably.  
  
Harry began to laugh and was immediately hit in the face with yet another large chunk of shrivelfig.  
  
"Thank you, Blaise," Draco muttered.  
  
"You're cute when you're embarrassed," Harry told him and then pointed his wand at himself. "Stupefy!" he shouted and fell paralysed to the ground.  
  
Snape stood and stomped around the desk to the boy on the floor. "I'm not finished with the pair of you," he said testily. "Ennervate!"  
  
Harry remained stationary on the floor.  
  
"Didn't it work?" Draco asked.  
  
Harry shook his head again. "Yes."  
  
"Then get up."  
  
"I'd rather stay down here, thanks."  
  
Snape sighed. "That's fine for the time being. Malfoy, what colour would you say is your father's favourite? Does he prefer dark chocolate or milk? How does he feel about flowers? Is your mother planning to be out of town any time soon?"  
  
"I am completely horrified right now," Draco responded blandly. "And strangely intrigued by the possibilities of a Stupefied Potter..." he trailed off and wished there was a large hole somewhere in his vicinity into which he could crawl so as to perish with whatever dignity he had left.  
  
"Malfoy."  
  
"Coal grey, dark, hates them, and she'll be in Paris the weekend after next."  
  
Snape beamed. "Excellent! Class dismissed."  
  
"You're just going to leave us like this?" Harry asked, sounding a little hysterical as he stared wide-eyed up at the ceiling.  
  
Snape nodded and motioned for them to follow the herd of their classmates as they rumbled out of the room. He crossed the words 'roses' and 'milk' from his parchment and carefully slipped it into an envelope. "Yes. You're amusing. Run along and owl this to your father for me, will you, Malfoy?"  
  
"I'd rather Stupefy Potter," he replied thoughtfully, regretted it immediately, and then walked quickly out of the room. 


	2. Chapter 2

DISCLAIMER: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended. Thank you to everyone that left a review and made me greedy for moremoremore! So I'm going to continue this fic, and hope that I'm not bleeding it dry.

Reviews! Yeeesss. Leave reviews! Reviewsreviewsreviews

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PIGTAILS  Part 2 

Once Draco had sent the owl off to his father, he decided to scope out the dungeons for a suitable hole in which to hide once the letter had been received and he was forced to run for his life. But, being Draco, he felt that any search of any sort was far too much effort and he decided to head for the common room instead.

"Great Potions lesson, wasn't it?" Blaise asked excitedly once he was inside.

"No," Draco told him decisively. "It was most certainly not."

"Oh, come on." He got up from his seat and walked happily over to his cranky friend. "Veritaserum wears off after twenty minutes, you're fine now. Plus, you got to find your one true love and you might have a Potions Master in your family before long."

"Stop laughing this instant," Draco demanded. "You sound like a donkey."

"A sexy donkey."

"True," Draco admitted, and then felt his stomach contract violently.

Blaise squinted at him for a moment before saying, "…What?"

Draco sighed and opened his mouth so as to allow whatever was making to fall from it do so as quickly as possible. "Your laugh," he began, "While rather donkey-like, is quite sexy and I think that something has gone horribly wrong with the potion. So I am going now to find Potter and grope him. Question him. That is not what I meant to say. I meant to say grope him. Question him. Probably both. Stop me talking, Zabini! Do not laugh at me like that! Help me find him right now!"

Blaise nodded, doubled-over and leaning against the wall for support, as he was dragged bodily out into the corridor. 

As they made their way through the castle, Draco maintained his grip on his friend with one hand, while he kept the other clamped tightly over his mouth. Blaise asked him a series of rather personal questions and he muffled his responses through his fingers and growled maliciously at anyone that happened to look his way. Once they had reached the portrait hole, he stopped and growled at the Fat Lady as well.

"I don't know the password," he admitted, warily removing his palm from his face.

"Boxers or briefs, Draco?"

"Neither. Gah! Stop it, we need the password!"

Blaise shrugged. "Is it true that you cried after Potter threw mud at you in Hogsmeade during third year?"

"Yes. That is not the password! Do not make me hit you; I punch like a girl. Like a girl. No, wait. I meant to say that I punch like a girl... Password!" He was spitting a great deal by now and he was getting worried that an army of curious Gryffindors was at any moment going to march out of their tower and demand interviews.

As if fate had taken pity on him at that very moment, the portrait swung open and Harry stepped through the hole. 

"Malfoy!" he exclaimed, sounding relieved and stuffy. "I was about to come and fondle you. Find you. And then maybe fondle you a bit. I was at least going to touch your bum. Bugger! Something's wrong with the potion, it hasn't worn off."

Blaise made a sniffing sound and said, "Eugh, Potter. You look like you were hit in the face with a door."

"Actually," Draco pointed out, "I think he looks rugged and manly, and I have decided that I may have to poison you very soon for making me say these things. We should find Snape now."

"Definitely," Harry agreed and then tied a red bandanna around his jaw, covering his mouth completely.

"Kinky," Draco told him. "I didn't mean that. I meant to say, 'good kink'. No. Idea. Good idea."

Blaise snorted and wiped a few tears from his cheeks. "I should write this all down."

"Malfoy, there you are," said an adult, and Snape swooped around the corner and descended upon the students in that overly intimidating way that he was so prone to. "Did you send that letter off to your father?"

"Yes, and I cannot seem to banish the mental images."

The professor maintained a blank expression.

"Clearly, something has gone terribly wrong with the potion," Draco explained. "Its effects haven't worn off yet."

Snape nodded thoughtfully and then spun around with a great deal of drama to face Harry. "What ingredient did you forget to put in?"

"The shrivelfig," he immediately mumbled through the fabric in his mouth, a look of complete horror twisting his face. "I forgot to add the shrivelfig!"

Snape shook his head. "That would be why it hasn't worn off. Shrivelfig dilutes the potion and causes it to become ineffective after twenty or thirty minutes. Malfoy, your father's sheets, does he prefer silk, satin, or cotton?"

"Satin. Stop asking me about my father! Don't write that down!"

"How does he feel about patchouli oil?"

"He's allergic. PUT THAT NOTEBOOK AWAY!"

Snape frowned. "Fine. We should get you both to the Headmaster's office, what do you think?"

"Well, I always thought 'Headmaster' was an absolutely hilarious double entendre," Draco told him and then angrily stomped off down the hall, Blaise giggling madly at his heels.

*

"Well," Dumbledore said with an infuriatingly jovial expression on his face. "Well, well, well."

"That cannot be all you have to say!" Draco shouted, frustrated and wishing Harry had given him the bandanna when he had taken it off in the doorway. "I'm telling the _truth _here! Do you understand what sort of liability this is to the Malfoys?"

Dumbledore chuckled and pried Draco's fingers off of his shoulders and then gently shoved him out of his personal space. "I did receive a rather frantic owl from your father only a few minutes ago. He is on his way here, although I couldn't quite make out why. We can sort things out then. I do hope he brings biscuits."

"You really have lost your mind, you old coot, haven't you?" Harry murmured thoughtfully and then grimaced like he'd just stepped in something foul.

The Headmaster smiled in his direction and took a seat by the fire. "So, tell me precisely what happened."

"Boy Blunder over here forgot to add the shrivelfig to the Veritaserum and now it won't wear off," Draco told him. "It's horrible."

"I'm sure once your father gets here, we can put our heads together and come up with some kind of solution," Snape offered. "I'll just take him down to my lab and we can work something out. An antidote, that is."

"You are not taking my father anywhere, and you are most certainly not putting anything of yours together with anything of his! He is my father, and therefore an eunuch!"

"Well, if my memory serves me correctly-"

"I do not want to hear this! I have a headache! I need to lay down with Potter. With Potter. Alone with Potter. Alone. I need to lay down alone… with Potter." Draco rubbed at his temples and began pacing. He was most certainly experiencing a breakdown of some sort.

There were several loud bangs at the door. "Let me in this instant, Albus!" Lucius Malfoy hollered from the other side. "There is some explaining to be done!"

Draco exploded from his spot and raced to let his father in. "He forgot the shrivelfig and now all I can talk about is how incredibly shaggable he is, and Snape is asking me terrifying questions about you, and Dumbledore is useless and wants biscuits!" he whined as calmly as he could. "Fix. Everything."

Lucius removed his son's hands from his own shoulders and shoved him out of the way. "What have you done to my only heir?" he asked Snape, who blushed like a schoolgirl and straightened his robes.  
  


"Actually, it was me," Harry corrected him, looking shocked at himself and terribly embarrassed. "I wrecked the Veritaserum because I had a concussion and Blaise was throwing things at me and laughing and he has a sexy laugh, a bit donkey-like, but sexy nonetheless, and I just can't stop any of this from flying out of my mouth - it's terrible - and if you go down to the lab, please cure us before you and Snape get it on."

Lucius pointed at the clearly unhinged boy in the corner and looked at Dumbledore. "What is he trying to say?"

"There's been an accident in Potions," he replied, laughing lightly and popping a candy into his mouth. "It's all quite amusing, really."

"Oh, yes, eat a few sweets why don't you?" Draco spat, collapsing into the lotus position and crossing his arms. "Maybe you'll go into some kind of diabetic shock and leave us like this forever. Super."

"What does any of this have to do with dark chocolate and my wife being in Paris?" Lucius asked irately. "Why did I just receive a letter with the words 'coal grey underthings' included? What the bloody hell is going on here?"

Snape cleared his throat and laced his fingers behind his back. "In their potions lesson today, the boys were to brew some Veritaserum. Potter, being the complete fool that he is, forgot to add the shrivelfig, and the due to this potion will not wear off. Why don't you come down to my lab and we can sort all of this out? We can have a chat about that dark chocolate."

Lucius appeared to ignore the greater part of that proposition. "Potter, have you poisoned my son?"

"We're not poisoned," he insisted. "We're just… honest."

"I fail to see the difference."

"I need an antidote!" Draco roared from the floor, collapsing onto his back and throwing his arms straight up above his head. "I cannot remain like this for any longer! Potter, I am going to kiss you. Kiss. Kill you. I am going to kill you so hard!"

"Severus," Dumbledore began, paying little heed to Draco's sudden fit, "Have you ever come across anything like this before?"

"No, students rarely forget an ingredient so crucial to a potion this powerful. I'll have to do some reading and get back to you."

"I do not have time to wait for you to learn to read and then go searching through your picture books!" Draco griped, still on his back. "Owl for an expert!"

"I am an expert."

"Oh, so you say. What kind of expert doesn't know how to reverse the effects of severely botched Veritaserum? I ask you."

Dumbledore stood and walked over to his desk. He pulled a massive candy dish out of a drawer and sat down as he popped a few more sweets into his mouth, slurping thoughtfully. "Well," he burbled. "If the two of you boys wouldn't mind helping him, and perhaps Miss Granger as well, then perhaps we can correct this very soon."

"I'll help," Lucius offered, eyeing Snape with a small smile. "I'm feeling a bit… nostalgic."

"Oh," Draco said crossly. "So this is what hell is going to be like. Good to know." 


	3. Chapter 3

Thank you to everyone that reviewed so far! *grabs Lady Doncaster's "Most Hilariously F***ed Up Fiction Award" and _runs_ _like_ _hell_* You rock my socks, people. And of course, the ficcing part of my brain would shrivel up and die were it not for my beta, Vivi. 

Disclaimer: None of this is mine; it is JKR's. While I like to pretend that it is mine on occasion, I would never claim it to be true.

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PIGTAILS 3

By breakfast the next day, Draco had cast a silencing charm on himself out of which his housemates had created a game of trying to remove. A certain number of points were awarded depending on what they were able to get him to say, and whether or not he became violent about it. So far, Pansy was in the lead. 

Harry had tied the bandanna into so many tight knots around his mouth that he couldn't get it off any longer, and he sat through the meal staring disconsolately down at his full plate of food before slouching away to the library to do some research.

Snape wandered in twenty minutes late, looking smug and oddly rosy-cheeked, with Lucius strolling along a few feet behind him.

"Son, what are you still doing in the Great Hall?" he asked sleepily. "You have a cure to find."

Draco stared silently up at his father, pretending that the purple blotch on his neck was a particularly large ink stain.

"He's cast a silencing charm on himself, sir," Blaise filled the adults in. "He won't speak."

Lucius shook his head. "Well, you'll never be rid of this horrible affliction if you can't order the Gryffindors around properly. Get to the library and tell them to work harder, blink less, fear your wrath, and all that. I'm getting a coffee." 

Pansy muttered something and giggled. "Draco, what are you most scared of?"

"Pigeons," he said and flattened both palms over his face, glaring menacingly at the ridiculously impolite girl.

"Pigeons?"

Draco grunted. "Have you ever walked out of a building and had them swarm you? Their horrible little wings flapping all over you, batting at your hair and smudging your perfect skin with their filth and disease? It's like rubbing your face on the Hufflepuff common room. What are you writing?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing," she muttered, folding a sheet of parchment and slipping it into her pocket.

"I don't think I can handle a room full of Gryffindors," he wished he hadn't suddenly said out loud. "This is already the worst day of my life."

"I'll come," Blaise offered, stretching up in his seat and yawing widely. "I've got nothing else going on."

"Good, it'd be embarrassing just showing up on my own; Potter might think I'm unlovable. And you do smell amazing, Zabini. Would you mind killing me now?"

In the library, Harry was sitting at a large table with Hermione and Ron. What appeared to be nearly all of Gryffindor house were packed into the smaller tables around them, whispering excitedly as Draco entered and doing a poor job of stifling their laughter.

Hermione looked up and scowled. "Get over here and fix this right now, you monster!" she called in her shrill little voice, violently waving a large book over her head. "You horrible, _horrible_ little man!"

"Temper," he quipped under his breath as he took a seat.

"How are you doing, Potter?" Blaise asked conversationally, seating himself and opening a massive tome. He flipped absently through the pages and didn't appear to care in the slightest how Harry was feeling.

"Lonely," he replied and then sighed exasperatedly. "My life is so hard and empty, you know."

Draco snorted.

Harry continued, sounding annoyed, "I really shouldn't have let you take my gag off, Ron. Now I'm just going to babble about how sweet Malfoy looks when he's sleepy and how nice Zabini smells and how annoying Herm's voice is and how bad maroon really looks on you, and I think I should just go get a glass of water and drown myself in it now."

"Sit down, Harry," Hermione said, her voice all of a sudden remarkably low and soft. 

"You'd need a bowl of water to properly drown yourself," Ron pointed out helpfully.

"Well, I could always shag him – drown him – in the Prefect's bathtub. Yes," Draco offered, flushing madly and ignoring the fact that Snape and his father had just walked into the library, hand-in-hand and laughing like teenagers.

"Cured yourself yet?" Lucius asked when they had reached the table. 

"Not yet, father."

"Why not? You've been at it for five minutes already."

"Give them time," Snape whispered into the other man's throat from behind and then moved with an undulating sort of strut over to a poorly lit corner. 

"You will never understand the level that my distress has reached over the pair of you," Draco announced and then braced himself.

Lucius just smiled as if this amused him a great deal and then left to join the Potions Master at his shadowy table.

"What was the ingredient that you forgot, again?" Hermione asked, her nose now in the book, great clouds of dust flying up as she breathed on it. The particles landed in a thick, grey veil over her fuzzy hair and she appeared to be used to this sort of thing.

"Shrivelfig," both boys replied in chorus.

"Well, it says here that shrivelfig acts as a kind of sponge to dilute the potion, and-"

"Yes, yes, we know that, you useless cow," Draco snapped. "What happens when it isn't added? Does the potion ever wear off?"

Hermione paused for a moment, her eyes flashing wildly as she scanned the page. "No."

"WHAT?"

"Well, not on it's own. And I'm ignoring the cow comment, by the way, you whiney little priss. It says here that Wendolin the Weird, famous for enjoying being burned at the stake, claimed that she was able to reverse the effects of Veritaserum by eating seven leaves of Scurvy-grass, and Bridget Wenlock, famous for the discovery of the magical properties of the number seven, made the same claim in 1263, although she was never personally under the influence of this serum."

Ron slowly looked up from the textbook he was doodling in. "Scurvy-grass?"

"Yes, it's… Well, it's long and black and is one of the key ingredients in Confusing and Befuddlement Draughts. But it says here that it can be found in the Forbidden Forest and it doesn't have the same effect on those under the influence of Veritaserum."

"So," Draco began. "You're going to send us into a Terrifying Forest of Death in search of a plant that will make us confused, and then expect us to find our way back out alive, and then have me not kill you in a befuddled yet wrathful state of frenzy. Have we just met?"

"Well, obviously you won't eat the leaves until you get back to the school. And even then, it isn't supposed to make you confused, it's supposed to cloud your mind enough that the Veritaserum is rendered ineffective. Once the grass wears off, you're fine again."

"How long does the Scurvy-grass take to wear off?" Harry enquired.

Hermione cringed. "Between one hour and six days."

"No," Draco said decisively.

"Malfoy, we have no other choice," Harry told him. "There's no other way."

"Fine," he conceded. "But I'm only doing this because you're gorgeous when you're being earnest, and I really need to stop saying these things out loud as soon as possible. Can we leave now?"

"Yes, let's," Hermione agreed cheerfully, closing the book and regarding them with an excited twinkle in her eyes.

"Oh no," Harry said, standing and pointing a staying finger at her shocked face. "You're not coming with us. Either Ron will see something shiny and wander off in its general direction, or you'll see something that has been vaguely discriminated against in some benign way, and I'll end up having to save your lives. Honestly, I really can't be arsed to do it today, alright? I can't believe how rude I'm being..." He smiled for a fraction of a second and then said, "Meet us in Dumbledore's office when we get back." 

With that, he grabbed hold of Draco's sleeve and pulled him from the library, down the stairs and out onto the school grounds. 

It took them several minutes to make their way to the edge of the woods, during which time both boys kept their mouths clamped shut and their gazes averted. Of course, once they stopped, Draco noted that the trees were dark, the path was thin, there were strange noises coming from inside, and, frankly, he had his reservations.

"I've changed my mind," he said carefully.

Harry started as if he had been lost in the same sort of thoughts. "Excuse me?"

"I'm not going in there. That tree right there on the left is about the most terrifying thing I can handle right now. I'll just sit down on the hill back there and wait for you to return, ok?"

"Shut up, Malfoy, you're coming with me if I have to knock you down and strip you. Drag you, I meant. If I have to strip you along with me. Drag you stripped. Drag you along with me. Just get going." 

He shoved Draco out in front of him and continued to usher him harshly through the wall of trees and into what had to be the most absurdly terrifying nature reserve on the face of the planet.

"Whose decision was it to build a school for _children_ on the outskirts of a forest full of deadly, _man_-_eating_ type things?" Draco whispered.

"Stop being such a baby," Harry said in tones of utmost frustration. "I've been in here loads of times."

"Yes, well, it is quite filthy. I can see how you'd feel at home."

Harry stopped and regarded Draco with an odd gleam in his eyes. He crossed his arms, tilted his head back and said, "I thought I was rugged and manly," before grinning widely and pulling clumps of grass out of the ground.

"Clever," Draco muttered and kicked a bit of dirt at the other boy.

Harry laughed, still bent over, shoving long blades of grass into each of his pockets.

"Well, now that you've gone completely around the twist, I'll just be off," Draco told him, backing away slowly.

"That's fine, I think I found the Scurvy-grass anyway."

Harry walked past him and back down the path to the school grounds, the black blades hanging loosely and temptingly out of his pocket.

"See?" Harry asked as Draco jogged to catch up. "That was completely uneventful." 

"Yesh, welp, I could've toldoo it wouldda ben."

"What?" Harry said, pivoting quickly and cracking a small twig beneath his foot.

Draco screamed. 

He fell to the ground and wrapped his arms over his head, drawing his knees up and looking for all the world as if he had just been shot at.

"What are you doing? Did you eat the grass? Malfoy, we don't even know if it was the right kind!" He slowly moved over to the ball of Malfoy quaking on the ground. "Are you crying?"

"A LITTLE BIT!" Draco bellowed, and then scampered away on all fours. 

He rushed toward the castle, pushing himself awkwardly to his feet. He craned his neck frantically in every direction as he went, slipping a bit on the muddy ground, shrieking as if the earth was being torn out from beneath him when he did so, and flailing his arms at both sides as if fending away a swarm of killer bees. Harry broke into a sprint to catch up, panting as he made his way up the hill. 

"Malfoy!" he shouted, and Draco screamed in terror again, somehow gaining speed and then running directly into Dumbledore's chest.

The Headmaster smiled calmly. "Ah," he said, steadying the frantic boy with one weathered hand wrapped around his grinding jaw.

"AH?" Draco bellowed. "What do you mean _ah_, you cryptic old fool? Get out of the way! Move-move-move!"

Harry finally reached them, huffing and bending over to rest his hands on his own knees as he gained his breath. "He… ate… wasn't?"

Dumbledore shook his head, wrapping his other hand around the base of Draco's neck. "I see that Miss Granger didn't inform the pair of you that Scurvy-grass resembles Alihotsy?"

"What are you talking about? Why are you trying to choke me? Unhand me! I will not stand for this! I need to go! I need to get going!"

Harry sighed dejectedly. "No. I take it that Alihotsy induces some kind of insanity?"

"Hysteria," the old man corrected, smiling with a great deal of amusement. "Let's get you to Poppy, what do you say Mr. Malfoy?"

Draco burst into tears.


	4. Chapter 4

Author's Notes: - Sorry for the delay between posting, I've been sick. (Awwww, poor me) Thank you again to everyone that reviewed the last three chapters! Shiny, _shiny_ reviews, I love them all. Keep them coming, this is the conclusion!

Disclaimer: None of this is mine; it is JKR's. While I like to pretend that it is mine on occasion, I would never claim it to be true.     

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

PIGTAILS 4 

"Potter, do not close that!" Draco insisted as the door to his private room in the hospital wing clicked shut. "How do I know that you're not here to slaughter me in my sleep?"

"Well," Harry replied, nervously clearing his throat. "I'm kind of here to try to fix this, not to smother you with your own pillow."

"Anything is possible Potter," Draco replied shrewdly. "I have been drugged, I'm very vulnerable. Maybe if you come over here and curl up beside me – you're just trying to get closer so you can smother me all the easier, aren't you? AREN'T YOU?"

Harry's face was blank. "Have you taken your sedative?"

"Oh, I'm on to you," Draco continued. "Wandering around all adorable all the time and winning trust… there were more Weasleys before you came along, weren't there? Admit it!" He broke out in a spasm of maniacal laugher and rattled the chains attached to the leather straps around his wrists. "I am ON to you!" he repeated, shoving himself up into a sitting position and leaning back against the wall. He wondered briefly if his pupils were even visible anymore.

Harry sat carefully down on the edge of the bed and looked thoughtful.

"You're plotting," Draco accused darkly.

"I got an idea from a book I read once," Harry informed him and then inhaled deeply, scooting a bit further up the bed. An alarming red hue was beginning to blaze up in his cheeks as he scrunched up his brow and made direct, unnerving eye contact.

"Was this a murder-mystery?" Draco asked, his tone suspicious.

Harry moved even further up, close enough that the shackles binding Draco were rendered useless. 

"Just let me give it a go."

"Give what a go? What are you talking about? Why are you this close to me?"

And with that Harry leaned in and grabbed Draco by the face, pressing his mouth down hard onto feverish lips as Draco froze on the spot. 

Clearly, Harry had not done a lot of this, and Draco was uncertain as to whether or not pulling back was a good idea. The love-starved can become violent when they're denied physical contact. But the kiss was rather pleasant in a startling, wholly inappropriate kind of way, and he was suddenly glad that the sedative was kicking in.

When Harry broke away, he squinted and looked off into the far corner, his cheeks red and his nostrils flaring.

He had most certainly been driven insane by all of this, Draco decided. Surely, the Veritaserum was doing wild things to his mind, forcing him to go around kissing boys willy-nilly without a thought to the consequences. He had become some kind of awful nymphomaniac and obviously did not feel a thing for poor, shackled, sedated Draco.

"HARLOT!" he suddenly shouted, lunging forward at the cold, unfeeling monster invading his bed. "Sexual assault!" he cried, and Harry threw himself down onto the floor and skittered away on his backside, looking utterly terrified.

"Wha-what?"

"You callous, unfeeling freak, you didn't mean any of that! Come here so I can properly injure you!"

Harry looked crestfallen. "I don't get it, a kiss always works for this sort of situation."

"I am not bleeding Snow White, Potter! And this is obviously not the day that my Prince will come!"

Harry snickered.

The bastard.

"This is no time for double entendres," Draco snapped icily. "You kiss terribly, I could teach you. No, I meant I could show you the proper... Damn it all to hell, I could…"

"Ha!"

"What?"

"I knew you fancied me!"

Draco sighed and crossed his arms as best he could, considering the chains. "Are you just tuning in? I believe all of this has been established already."

Harry stood, a look of triumph spreading across his face. "So you admit it!"

Really, for a hero, he was quite dense.

"Of course I admit it, you goddamn tosser. Now run along and find a proper way to fix all of this so I can go back to being witty and hilariously condescending to you and yours." 

"Oh, Snape's on his way or something," Harry told him, waving a dismissive hand and seating himself in Draco's personal space.

"What, with the cure? He's found a cure and you had to go and slobber all over my face anyway?"

Harry smiled affectionately, brushing a bit of hair off of Draco's burning forehead. "It's not definitely a cure. He has an idea."

Draco batted his hand away. "And you couldn't wait ten minutes for him to try it out? Honestly, do you ever get tired of trying to save the day?"

"Well, yeah..."

"Perhaps you should have taken this whole situation as a kind of holiday from your daily adventures," Draco recommended. "You're probably going to get burnout by eighteen and develop unpleasant digestive upsets."

Harry looked down, the corner of his mouth twitching as if he was trying to make it say something it would rather not spit out. "I just, you know. I kind of wanted. I kind of wanted to see what it was like. Kissing you."

"Oh good. I'm relieved that you're not getting overly sentimental over this. You do realise that none of this is going to change the fact that we're bitter rivals, correct? You still drive me insane, and I may have to tackle you or lock you in a small room for hours on end just to be alone with you. To remind you that we hate each other, I meant. Yes."

He suddenly smiled brightly. "See? I-"

The door burst open. 

A large cart carrying a massive wooden box rattled into the room, Snape doubled over behind it as he steered it carefully on its wobbling wheels. Behind him were Lucius, Dumbledore, Hermione, Ron, and Blaise marching in a solemn line. They created a semicircle around the bed, each of them wearing a sombre face, except Blaise who looked amused and winked at Harry when they made eye contact.

Snape threw the lid open, muttering to himself as he rummaged through whatever the contents were as the clinking of glass and an unsettling squishing sound filled the otherwise still air.

"How are you, son?" Lucius asked absently, watching the professor's progress with rapt attention.

"The straps are chafing and Potter attempted to molest me."

He nodded. "As long as you're rested."

"Aha," Snape grunted, raising one large vial in each hand and holding them out for all to see. "This is it."

"This is what?" Harry asked warily.

"Oh, a great many things, Potter," he replied in awe-inspiring tones. "I have discovered that undiluted Veritaserum cannot be digested by the human body. It remains in the stomach, exerting the usual effects to the fullest, but it does not pass any further. Therefore, you must each drink this. It will completely neutralize everything in your digestive tract."

"How does it do that?" Harry enquired, placing a protective hand over Draco's.

"It dissolves it."

"Like acid!" Hermione piped up in utter horror. She was leaning over the box and carefully lifted a thin, dusty book out of it. "It says right here that to neutralize any botched potion, the affected witch or wizard must consume _this_ potion and be put under strict medical supervision. If any sizzling sounds become audible-"

"I refuse to consume anything that may make me sizzle!" Draco announced, yawning widely as he felt the sedative hitting him all the more strongly.

Lucius made a tutting sound. "If Severus says that it is safe, you can trust him. He would never hurt my son."

Snape beamed. "Thank you, muffin. Exactly."

"Oh, my God," Draco moaned. "Just give me the potion. Give it to me and let me sizzle. I'd rather die than hear that again."

"Stop being such a drama queen, Draco," Blaise advised, still looking overly smug and pleased beyond all reason.  

Harry looked conflicted. "No, I don't think we should take that. At least not Draco, he's been given a sedative as well. We don't know what all of those potions will do if he takes them together."

"Awww, aren't we the caring boyfriend type?" Blaise chuckled. "And you're holding his hand in a calming manner, too! It's just too sweet for words."

"Don't make me kill you," Draco muttered darkly, leaving his hand where he damn well pleased.

"Just take the potion and we can be finished with all of this," Snape interrupted.

"No!" Hermione cried. "No, they could be killed! We have to find something else to dilute it!"

"You mean dissolve it," Blaise corrected.

"Same thing," the Potions Master snapped, and moved toward the boys on the bed.

"He is not drinking that!" Harry announced, squeezing the hand beneath his.

"I'm really not," Draco agreed, squeezing back.

"Well, why don't they just eat some shrivelfig?" It was like the voice of reason had suddenly arrived. 

Every head in the room spun to stare open-mouthed at Ron as he stood in the centre of the group, looking confused and worried as his sentence still clung to his lips.

"Well, it's just a thought," he added with a blush and an uncomfortable clearing of his throat.

"Perfect!" Hermione called out, clapping her hands excitedly and then thrusting them into the box again. "There must be some in here somewhere…"

"I highly doubt that simply eating a shrivelfig will properly dilute such a powerful potion," Snape huffed.

"Oh yes, let's listen to the man that wanted to fry me from the inside out," Draco commented reasonably.

"You just don't want to try it because a Gryffindor suggested it," Harry accused, glaring at the indignant man over the rims of his glasses. 

He raised an eyebrow and remained silent. 

"Found some!" Hermione called triumphantly. She placed two of them carefully into the palm of her hand and moved over to the bed, thrusting the tiny, wrinkled roots out toward them. "Go on."

Draco could smell it from where he was seated. Shrivelfig had a stench wholly unique to it that was just about as grotesque as the sight of the thing itself.  "I don't think I want to put that-" he began.

"Oh, just shut up and eat it," Hermione cut him off, taking one of the figs from her palm and shoving it unceremoniously into his open mouth. "Chew."

Harry picked the other one up and slid it between his teeth, grimacing and gagging lightly as he forced it down.

Once Draco had stuck out his tongue to prove that he had swallowed upon Hermione's insistence, the room fell silent.

"Well?" Blaise asked, tapping his foot.

*

"Potter, why don't you leave this up to me?"

"I won't forget anything this time," Harry insisted, staring down into the steaming cauldron and then squinting at the sheet of parchment in front of him. "Wait. Wait, I forgot the Mugwort. I'll be right back."

He stood and took off quickly for the cupboards at the back of the classroom, skirting Blaise Zabini as he slipped in through the door ten minutes late.

"So," he said, smacking Draco casually on the back and taking Harry's seat. "How're you feeling?"

"Fine," Draco replied, stirring his potion and wishing desperately for his friend to suddenly pass out.

"No more fever, then?"

"No. I'm fine."

"No more terrible truths?"

"No."

"No more Potter-lusting?"

"No – what?"

"You know," Blaise continued conversationally. "No more fancying Potter. That would have been embarrassing for all of us."

"How so?" Draco asked loudly, startling several people and causing Neville to spill the entire contents of his caldron onto the floor.

"It burns!" he wailed, rubbing at his ankles where the liquid had splashed up under his robes. "Hermione, it burns!"

"Oh, for the love of God," she muttered, grabbing him by the shoulder and leading him, limping and moaning, through the door.

Blaise seemed unruffled. "Obviously, we couldn't have you dating a Gryffindor. Especially not Harry Potter; it would've been terrible." 

"_How so?_"

He was beginning to appear startled. "Well, it's just that… you know, Draco, you're-"

"What? I'm _what_?"

"Supposed to hate all of them. You're not supposed to fancy a Gryffindor. I mean, look at them, all giggling and saintly." He pointed to a group of them in the far corner, Seamus laughing wildly at Dean who had a wand rammed up each of his nostrils.

"Oh! Well I'm glad you told me, then," Draco spat. "You were informed that I was under the influence of _Veritaserum_, correct? Not an aphrodisiac potion?"

"Yeah, but now that it's all over things can just go back to the way they were. Just _look_ at them!"

 "Would you shut up?"

"But, I mean, he's a Gryffindor, Draco. Don't you get it?"

He glared. "Potter! Come over here!"

"I'm coming, you bloody megalomaniac!" he yelled back, still staring into the cupboard. "I can't find the Mugwort."

"Forget the sodding Mugwort. Come here."

Harry shook his head. "Fine," he sighed. "But I'm not drinking anything missing an ingredient." He walked slowly, very probably deliberately, back over to the table and then leaned against the wall, looking deeply annoyed.

Draco stood. "I'm told that Gryffindors are off limits to me."

He nodded – somewhat bitterly – and crossed his arms. "Right. Great. That's good."

He looked irritated and embarrassed. Stern and unmoving. Rigid and cold. But he jumped inches when Draco lightly wrapped a hand around his jaw and tilted his face up to align with his own. He made a small sound of surprise in his throat as the other hand found its way to the small of his back. When Draco leaned in to kiss him, the eyes of everyone in the class locked on to them, he relaxed completely and sucked lightly at Draco's lower lip.

 "Yeah, Potter!" Seamus hollered from across the room.

"Ow-_ow_!" bellowed Dean. 

Harry laughed and pulled back. "What was that?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, you know," Draco replied. "I just wanted to see what it was like."


End file.
